Chapter 4: Static

Author's Note:

Explicit content lies ahead, some smut abounds. Trigger warning: mentions of character death, self-harm and depression.

"Stanchion, n.

I don't want to be the strong one, but I don't want to be the weak one, either. Why does it feel like it's always one or the other? When we embrace, one of us is always holding the other a little tighter".

David Levithan, The Lover's Dictionary, p. 183, Picador

He grabbed her wrists and pinned her to the wall, he paused, Clarke relaxed for a bit and he edged his leg between hers. His breath was hot against her neck, his hands moved from her arms down to the rim of her denim skirt. The fabric of his jeans were rough against her skin, for the lack of better term, Clarke felt a rush of arousal. His curly locks brushed against Clarke's chin, he sucked at her neckline and worked his way up to nibble her earlobe. Even though they just met a few weeks ago, Clarke has found his dominance as a potent aphrodisiac- she has never felt so hot for someone in a long time.

Physically, Bellamy Blake was an archetype of a manly man; rough hands, ripped body, musky scent and a smooth tone of voice. Emotionally, however, though his witty sense of humor compensated for his arrogance; he was self-absorbed and was not actually receptive of Clarke's sentiments. But Clarke was not really after his emotional support; she just wanted to feel again and she got caught up with all the attention Bellamy was giving her, she agreed to be his girlfriend after a week of hooking up behind the bar where Bellamy worked.

Bellamy eased up her skirt and slipped his hand into her underwear.

"Damn, princess, you're already so wet for me." Bellamy whispered seductively into her ear.

"Then, what are you going to do about it?" Clarke replied suggestively.

And with that exchange; Bellamy swiped her underwear to the side and parted her lips, searched for her clit and continued to rub its tip until he elicited a sensual moan from Clarke. Suddenly, Bellamy removed his hand and lifted her, by now her legs were tightly locked unto his hip, Clarke could feel Bellamy hard against her. They entered Bellamy's room in this position, whilst both kissing in frenzy, Bellamy bounced Clark on the foot of the bed. Hurriedly he undid his belt and flies, and pulled down his pants and swiftly removed her soiled underwear together with her skirt. He then penetrated her, hard and fast, it was a mixture of pleasure and pain for Clarke. As she recoiled back and forth onto the bed, she couldn't help but think- so; this is how they have started their relationship, quick and eager.

It was at six-thirty the following day that Bellamy's alarm clock blared. Clarke was not too keen about this, but this was one thing that she couldn't understand about Bellamy. For such a lazy man who usually works until two o'clock in the morning, he manages to get up at exactly six-thirty to jog. Then after his jog, he would come home, grab and quick breakfast and sleep until five in the afternoon to prepare for his evening shift. For the past few days that Clarke has been sleeping over, she never really had much sleep. She was the type that if she overslept when the sun comes up, she would end up having terrible migraines throughout the day and no cup of coffee would fix that.

"Gaaah, I hate your alarm clock!" Clarke exclaimed.

"Shhh, go back to bed, I'll be back in a short while." Bellamy was tying the shoelaces of his trainers at the foot of the bed.

"Grab some breakfast on your way back." Clarke mumbled, enveloping her head in between a pillow-sandwich.

"Okay, will do…" Bellamy moves to put on a tattered Ramones t-shirt.

Bellamy was almost out of the bedroom door but then he takes a step back, suddenly remembering something.

"Hey Clarke, I need to tell you something…are you still awake?"

"Barely…can it wait?" Clarke replied with closed eyes.

"Uhm, better I tell you now before I forget about it again." Bellamy clears his throat, unsure of how Clarke will take what he was about to say.

"Ow shoot! Okay…what?! I'm awake now. I'm listening…what's so important that it can't wait?" Clarke suddenly opens her eyes and moves to sit up against the headboard.

"Okay, come to think about it, I'm quite excited about telling you know. Remember, last time, I told you how I earned a lot of tips during the holidays? Well, a bro of mine gave me an idea. He went on a trip to several regions in Asia last year and he really had the time of his life. He went surfing and partied at several beaches" Bellamy was animated now. "So, I decided to try it out and earlier this year, I booked a ticket! I'm going backpacking Clarke!"

"So, you're telling me now because?" Clarke asked in a nonchalant tone, not so enthusiastic about being bombarded by a lot of information in the morning.

"…and I decided to invite you! You should come with me Clarke! You can afford it, right?" Bellamy requested but he was a bit unsure of how Clarke might react.

"So, tell me, you just decided to suddenly travel together while our relationship is still but a few days old?" Clarke was pointing back and forth between herself and Bellamy, struggling to emphasize a point.

"Yes! Of course! Where's your sense of adventure, Clarke Griffin!" Bellamy mocked.

"Okay but hold your horses, where are we going exactly?"Initially, Clarke wasn't too keen with spontaneity, but with what has happened to her over the last three years, she promised herself to never miss out on opportunities.

"Roughly, we can start with the Philippines, there are great beaches there. Then we can cross to Thailand, and then maybe head to Vietnam. I'm not really sure yet, we can just feel around, stick to the fun part and move on to the next when we get bored. We can go surfing, bum around beaches and even get new tattoos. So, are you up for it?"

Clarke pretended that she was contemplating for a while but she already knew her answer to Bellamy's invitation moments ago.

"Hell! Why not, what else do I have to lose?!" Clarke cried out and with that Bellamy hugged her tightly lifting her off the bed.

Later that day…

Clarke was working at her studio, if there was one little secret that she has kept from Bellamy, it was that she lived comfortably. In contrast, Clarke was not a starving artist; in fact, her trust fund will be able to support her for many years if only she knew how to use it well. But Clarke was a relentless alcoholic; if not cooped up in her studio with a bottle of whiskey on forlorn evenings, she was out dancing with some friends in a club or chatting up some stranger in a pub. In this manner, she stumbled upon Bellamy, a charismatic bartender in some hipster pub downtown. Her downward spiral started when her mother passed away due to lung cancer when she was in her senior year in high school. Her father was M.I.A. since her birth, her mother never talked about him. She was raised alone by her mother with support from her grandparents. As a known neurosurgeon, her mother was able to maintain their prolific lifestyle when her grandparents passed. Her mother was then married to an architect named Marcus Cane. Since they married late, Clarke did not have any siblings but Marcus took care of her as his own. With such irony, her mother, Dr. Abigail Griffin, however, was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. Due to early pressures of life and work, Abby succumb to chain smoking and this resulted to her passing after two years of being married to Marcus. Without Abby as a buffer, Marcus and Clarke's underdeveloped connection as step-father and step-daughter was not yet fully realized. As they separately mourned for Abby, Clarke and Marcus walked around eggshells. Marcus pursued his work as usual and Clarke buried herself in alcohol and partying.

Clarke and Abby moved in to Marcus' mid-century modern Eichler house in the suburbs of Arkadia. As an architect, Marcus was thrilled when he found out that his step-daughter had a degree in visual communication. So, in his remodeled glass house, he set up a studio for Clarke. Her space had glass curtain windows on one side which faced the garden, a skylight, and polished concrete floors. The walls were cladded with hardwood slats and broad slate stone slabs. Clarke and Marcus would spend late afternoons sharing tea and butter cookies, healthily arguing about famous artists and designers or simply butting heads about food and current events. At some point, Clarke was happy to finally find a father in Marcus. But this happiness was short lived due to Abby's demise. Both of them deteriorated into a continuous cycle of despair.

But losing Abby was not the only baggage Clarke had. A year before Abby's death, Clarke lost another person who she valued the most. The suddenness of John Murphy's fatality remained a mystery to Clarke. At 21, Clarke thought that John Murphy was her soul mate. John and Clarke went to the School of the Arts and Design at Polis University together. Polis was a metropolitan district about forty-five minutes away from the suburbs of Arkadia. Clarke was initially flabbergasted with the vulgarity of Murphy's work. Murphy disliked being called John, raised by a single mom; he detested his first name when he knew that it was given by his father before he abandoned them. So he stuck to his mother's last name, he used this to sign all his works. Most of the time, Murphy was branded as an anarchist, he challenged conventional ideas art and risked unpopularity simply to subvert order into confusion. He once painted a self-portrait, arduously applying the techniques of some Renaissance masters such as Botticelli and Caravaggio. He then proceeded to vandalize his own work by haphazardly spilling red paint over his own portrait. His daring gestures and words captured Clarke's attention. To the eyes of others, together, Clarke and Murphy were like Sid and Nancy obliterating everything in their way. But to them, they were more like Charles and Ray Eames, speaking their own language, working in sync.

However, Clarke never realized that Murphy would take his destructive means of expression in a whole new level. One winter's eve, at exactly 9:22PM on his 26th birthday, John Murphy took his old Toyota Corolla and drove it off a cliff. His body surfaced after a week. The only thing he left Clarke was a small haphazardly handwritten message that he has left on a canvas on his room saying: "Clarke, I love you and you absolutely had nothing to do with it". For years now, Clarke has attributed his action to his depression that he never really discussed with Clarke. This was the hand that Clarke was dealt with; prior to recovering from the loss of her boyfriend, her mom followed.

Each day droned as any other day, being with Bellamy made Clarke feel again. Though this was mostly in a physical sense, but she pictured that the longer she gives in to numbness, she might never be able to feel again. As she recalled all these adversities in her life, Clarke has managed to finish drawing a mandala using a piece of chalk on the floor of her studio.

"I see that you're home" Clarke did not notice that Marcus was observing her from the doorway for over ten minutes now.

"I got in this morning" was all Clarke said in reply as she focused on the last details of her drawing.

"Were you with that man-child again?" Marcus asked. Despite their emotional distance, Marcus was still deeply concerned with Clarke's struggles and he sensed that being with Bellamy is not going to help Clarke's present condition.

"He's not bothering you" Clarke answered aware of her step-father's disapproval.

"Fine, I just don't want him around here" Marcus clarified.

"Don't worry, he won't be. Actually, we won't be for some time" Clarke's relationship with Marcus was totally strained now. If earlier, she had second thoughts about joining Bellamy, surely she made her decision now. Being away from Marcus' negativity might help her ease up for a bit. Maybe not being on each other's nerves all the time might help them move on much faster. She probably needed this impulsive trip, if only as a first step into regaining her stability again and consequently, having the nerves to actually confront issues with Marcus when she returns.

"What do you mean?" Marcus asked in confusion.

"I'll be backpacking with Bellamy across Southeast Asia, a few days from now" Clarke declared.

Marcus' face lighted up a bit; he knew that he was trapped in an abyss of grief with Clarke. But Clarke's intention to travel and to get out of Arkadia for a while might be the best news that he has heard in months.

"Actually, I'm quite happy that you have decided to finally do something else. But are you sure that you need to do this with him?" Marcus only wanted the best for Clarke.

"Don't worry, I can handle myself. Plus, he'll help me find my way around" Clarke stood up from the floor and she addressed Marcus by not actually having to look at him.

"Fine, but promise me that you'll be in touch so I'll know you're safe" Marcus leaned towards Clarke trying capture her attention.

"Okay, but I won't be printing out an itinerary, we don't have one" Clarke stated nonchalantly.

As Clarke moved to exit the studio, Marcus went closer to the mandala to take in Clarke's work. It was an intricate layer of floral and geometric patterns but despite its complexity it was drawn using chalk.

"Clarke, you know it will fade in few days, right?" Marcus was referring to Clarke's work on the floor.

"I've read that mandalas symbolized the universe. Monks in Tibet would draw mandalas on the ground using sand. Then the wind washes all the sand away after they are done" Clarke explained.

"Why would you even bother, then?"

"Let go, Marcus, nothing is permanent in this world" and with that Clarke exited the room, leaving behind a smirking Marcus, shaken by what Clarke had said.